Looking Like A Frenchman In The London 2 Brighton 100k And Post Run Non-Fun.

I’m back in Northern Ireland for the weekend and it’s been great seeing everyone again. I was showing my family the pictures of me from the 100k and they pointed out that I looked like a lost Frenchman.

All I’d need in the picture below is a chain of fucking Garlic and a beret and the calls of “Allez Matt!” would have brought me home in record time to Gay Paris.

Here’s what happened after the 100k.

Immediately after I finished the 100k I got the shuttle bus into Brighton City Centre where I thought I’d spend some time browsing the shops.

The problem was that I was so tired that all I wanted to do was collapse. To give you an idea of how exhausted I was I tried withdrawing £20 from the cash machines at Brighton Station, took my debit card out of the machine and left the cash there.

I then went into M&S for some chocolate and water, got to the till and tried to exit the building with the items without paying the guy.

I kinda broke down into hysterics at the till just at the insanity of it all.

Somehow made it to the Post & Telegraph Wetherspoon pub in Brighton were I ordered 10 chicken wings and a pint of whatever fucking ale they had on offer.

I couldn’t enjoy my lunch as I kept falling asleep at the table and was worried that I was gonna start having night terrors after my experience at Ardingly.

Anyway it took me 4 hours to eat my dinner and drink my pint. Definitely some kind of record there for me.

From Wetherspoon I had to get to my Airbnb host who was in Hove.

I ordered a taxi out there and the FUCKING IDIOT left me off at completely the wrong spot. To compound matters my mobile phone was out of power so I couldn’t find out where I was.

This meant that I had to walk all of the fucking way back in towards Brighton so I could find somewhere to charge my phone.

This took about 2 hours and by this time my Airbnb host was getting mighty pissed off by my no-show antics.

I got to Fogg’s in Dyke Street outside Hove and sat down for a while to charge my phone.

According to Google Maps it was roughly 2 miles back to where I was staying.

And I didn’t have money for a taxi. So I had to walk it all the way back again. The blisters were that painful on both of me feet that I had to start walking on the front of them.

I think this is why my left foot is a little bit fucked.

Tonight I’m pretty relieved.

All this week I’ve been eating like hell and everything seems to be out of control as I can’t run because of my bad foot.

I was worried that my weight had increased up to above 230lbs.

It turns out that I’m 208lbs which is actually lower than my weight when I set off for London on the first place. I’m going back tomorrow to London and starting afresh again for a European marathon in September or October.